


with so much of my heart (none is left to protest)

by friendlyneighbourhoodteacakes



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Erik Has Feelings, Erik Logic Is The Best Logic, Hurt Charles, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, No Beach Divorce, Protective Erik Lehnsherr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:13:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21811987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friendlyneighbourhoodteacakes/pseuds/friendlyneighbourhoodteacakes
Summary: Charles doesn't remain conscious after the bullet hits him in Cuba. Erik doesn't handle it well.
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Comments: 32
Kudos: 500





	with so much of my heart (none is left to protest)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BelgianReader2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelgianReader2/gifts).



> @KuhakuE said: 'On the beach in Cuba, Erik turned in such horror because he still didn't know where the bullet hit and what the damage was. For a split second, he thought he had accidentally killed Charles.'
> 
> So @BelgianReader2 prompted: 'So now I do actually want an AU where Charles passes out straight away because of pain etc. and an exploration of Erik's thoughts when he doesn't wake up in all the hassle of getting off the beach (because of course Erik can't leave until he knows he hasn't killed Charles right? Right.)'
> 
> And I thought, okay, I haven't fixed Cuba yet and this seems like a good opportunity to try my hand at it. 3000 words later, here we are. Some small pieces of dialogue are lifted directly from XMFC. The title is borrowed from _Much Ado About Nothing._ I hope you all enjoy! 🥰

There’s an agonised, strangled gasp from behind him, and that’s when Erik realises his mistake. 

Bullets are not something to be careless with. The damage they can do is incredible and Erik knows this all too well, which makes this mistake even worse. Somehow, in the heat of the moment, it never even occurred to him that while he was deflecting the bullets they might hit somebody much more important than himself. 

The others are staring not at him any more but behind him, where Charles must be dead on the sand. Their expressions are all full of horror and Erik suspects his own mirrors theirs too.

He turns, too slow, in time to see Charles finish his lifeless collapse to the floor. There’s not even an attempt to catch his own weight with his hands. The world feels as if it’s passing by in slow-motion and Erik’s moving before he can even really think about doing anything else. The missiles suddenly seem so trivial and begin to drop from the sky, forgotten. Each explosion sounds a million miles away. 

All that matters is Charles. 

Nobody else has moved yet. They must all be too stunned, too horror-stricken to do anything. The world narrows down to only him and Charles, who is awfully still on the sand. Erik crashes to his knees next to him and instinctively, rolls him, then yanks the bullet out of his back as if that’ll be able to undo the damage that has already been done. 

The bullet is tossed aside, a little bloody but mostly covered in some slippery, unknown liquid, and Erik focuses all of his attention on Charles again. He turns him all the way over and hopes against hope that he’ll see those bright blue eyes, the hint of a smile to let him know it’s all okay, but instead, Charles is still, his eyes are closed, and he’s horribly, horribly pale underneath the sand clinging to his face. The only indication he’s alive at all is the rise and fall of his chest. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, in the vain hope Charles will somehow hear him, but there’s nothing. Charles is limp and still. When Erik raises his head, his heart thudding painfully in his chest, the others have all stepped forward as one and before he can think about the fact that Charles needs help _now,_ he’s barking out, “Back off!”

They all stop and their expressions are just as terrified and filled with horror as they were seconds ago. They aren’t doing anything to help. It’s Moira who dares to step forward first and Erik’s lips curl into a snarl, his arms cradling Charles, protective. 

Charles is dying and there’s nothing anybody can do about it. 

“You did this,” he snaps at Moira. One hand curls into a fist and the dog tags around her neck slowly begin to tighten. She gasps and clutches pathetically at the metal. She’s always had it out for mutants; she’s probably planned this all along; _she did this..._ Erik glances down at Charles’ slack face, hoping he’ll grimace, open his eyes, and agree that yes, Moira did this, but that isn’t going to happen, because Charles is dying and it’s… 

It’s Erik’s fault. 

Nobody else’s. 

The weight of his dismay and guilt hits like a freight train. Charles is dying and it’s all his fault because he didn’t think before deflecting those bullets, because he’s too weak to stop bullets before they do any harm. He’s failed, again, to protect someone who means the world to him from one tiny piece of metal.

Horrified at himself, he releases the metal from around Moira’s neck and doesn’t bother to acknowledge the sound of her dropping to her knees. Her gasps fall on ears that only want to hear Charles’ voice. The human will recover. Charles won’t. 

Charles is _dying._

“Wake up,” he says to Charles, the hand that was a moment ago trying to kill Moira moving to his face. He brushes away the sand stuck to Charles’ cheek with his thumb. “ _Wake up._ ” 

He can hear someone sobbing. Raven, he suspects. The others are moving towards them again and Hank’s saying, “Erik, we need to get him medical attention _now._ ” But all Erik wants is for Charles to wake up. 

Desperate for anything from Charles, Erik reaches up, Charles still balanced on his lap, and pulls the wretched helmet from his head. That gets flung down next to the bullet, that one bullet that just had to lodge itself right in Charles’ _back._ Not caring about the others watching, he presses his forehead to Charles’ sandy one, and thinks, over and over again, _Wake up wake up please wake up wake up._

There’s nothing but silence from Charles and a sob tears its way up Erik’s throat before he can stop it. He’s killed him, he’s killed Charles, and he tries again, one more time, with a pleading, _Charles, I’m sorry. I love you. Wake up._

No response. Erik despairs. 

“He needs medical attention.” 

Hank’s voice is firm, his expression grim, and his hands are clenched into fists. The others flutter around behind him, unsure of themselves, and Shaw’s mutants are a distance away, looking completely lost without their leader.

“ _Erik._ We need to help him.” That’s Raven, her voice cracking, and then suddenly both Hank and Raven are kneeling down in front of them, looking just as desperate as Erik feels. 

“He’s dead,” Erik says hollowly, staring at them both, his entire body feeling numb. There’s sweat beading on his forehead.

“No, he’s not,” Hank says, and how can he possibly sound so patient when Erik has killed Charles, the man who gave his all trying to help them to improve their abilities? “Erik. I think you’re in shock. Charles is alive. He’s breathing, see? If you focus, you’ll be able to feel his heart beating. But you need to let me see him. He needs medical attention now. _Now,_ Erik. Lay him flat for him.” 

With hands that don’t feel like his own, Erik carefully begins to shift Charles from his lap, Hank’s murmur of, “Gently, _gently,_ ” hardly even registering. 

Some distant part of Erik knows he’s not helped the situation any by tearing the bullet out and manhandling Charles onto his lap, but that’s so far away in his mind, he can’t focus on it right now. 

All that matters is getting Charles help. 

“Moira, are you okay? Can you help me?” Hank is asking and the human is nodding, crawling over to them, her neck bruised and face pale but otherwise, apparently, unharmed. “Can’t do anything with the…stupid fur… I think you’re the only other one who has any sort of training.”

It’s Raven who grabs Erik’s shoulder and gently tugs him back, to give Hank and Moira space. He hears Hank tearing pieces of his own uniform off and watches numbly as he hands them off to Moira. They’ve rolled Charles onto his side and Moira’s pressing the fabric against the bullet hole, to stop the bleeding. 

The bleeding. 

Erik glances down at his lap and there are glistening patches on the fabric, which can only because of Charles’ blood. The world spins around him and he feels as if he can’t breathe. _I love you_ , he thinks again, hoping Charles might just hear him, and he follows that with, _I’m so sorry._

“You!” Hank suddenly shouts, pointing at the red teleporter, who looks shocked to have suddenly been addressed. “Get over here. You have to help us. He needs to go to the hospital. Now.”

Whatever conversation they have, Erik doesn’t hear. All he can do is stare at Charles, who still hasn’t woken up, still hasn’t so much as brushed Erik’s mind with his. Is he paler than he was earlier? He can feel his heartbeat if he concentrates. That must be the iron in his blood. But that doesn’t mean Charles isn’t dying. 

“Erik,” Raven says, forever or a few seconds later. She shakes his shoulder and the world slides back into focus. “Erik, the teleporter’s taking us to the hospital. You, me, Moira, Charles. We need to keep Charles as still as possible while we move. Then he’s going to come back for the others, the teleporter.” Erik doesn’t understand why the teleporter is helping them at all, but he isn’t going to complain. 

Alex and Sean don’t look happy with the plan, the two boys glaring openly at him. Hank looks resigned. “You need to go now,” Hank says. It clicks a moment later why he can’t come to the hospital. Blue. Fur. 

Everything still feels numb. He lets Raven guide him to Charles’ side and finds himself asking, “Why me?” 

All Raven says is, “Charles needs you.”

Erik doubts that. Charles is dying because of him. He deserves so much more than Erik. He deserves somebody who is actually in control of their powers, who doesn’t let their rage get the better of them. 

He’s distantly aware of Raven putting his hands where they need to be to actually be of use while they travel. Charles is still beneath them. Everything else is a blur. 

In a poof of red smoke, they’re gone. 

It can’t have been more than ten minutes since the missiles first fired, but it easily feels as if an entire lifetime has passed since this nightmare began. 

**.x.x.x.**

Hospitals are awful. They smell too clean and the floors are too squeaky and although there’s lots of metal, it doesn’t feel as comforting in this context as it does usually. Metal typically makes Erik feel warm and reassured, because it’s just about the only constant in his life aside from rage. Yet in the hospital, it all feels cold. Cold and dead, like Charles almost was, because Erik put a metal bullet in his spine. 

Charles isn’t unconscious now, doctors have assured them. He’s sleeping. Resting. He woke shortly after his arrival at the hospital, panicking, and he projected, _I can’t feel my legs_ , so strongly, they suspect the entire hospital likely heard it. 

Nobody else has mentioned it. At the moment, they’re hoping nobody pieces together that they weren’t the only one to feel the vivid thought in their brain. 

Raven has been crying ever since and Erik doesn’t feel much better than she clearly does.

The concussion is what knocked Charles out, because it transpires if something applies enough force to damage the spinal cord, it can, in turn, jolt the brain. He’ll be fine. The concussion isn’t the worrying part, because Charles has been conscious, has used his powers, and has even spoken to the doctors, according to their last update.

It’s the damaged spinal cord and the fact Charles can’t feel his legs which is worrying. 

Erik didn’t really want to listen, but the numbness has faded somewhat and he’s taken in every word the doctors have told them in the last few hours. He knows nearly every detail of Charles’ current condition. 

He also knows Charles is never going to forgive him for the fact that it's incredibly unlikely he’s ever going to walk again. 

_Paralysed_ , thanks to a bullet Erik should’ve had better control of. 

Sitting on the awful, plasticky chair next to him, Raven lets out a quiet moan. “He’s not going to be able to _walk._ It’s Charles. How can he not walk?” she asks, and she’s asked a similar question several times in the last few hours. 

“We don’t know that it’s permanent,” Moira says quietly, reaching out and laying a hand Erik assumes is meant to be reassuring on Raven’s back. “The doctors said, when the swelling goes down…”

“That there’s a _chance_ the damage isn’t as severe as they’re assuming,” Erik snaps at her. “A chance. Don’t give her false hope.” 

Raven lets out another moan and drops her face into her hands. 

Over her head, Moira glares at him. The thin line of bruising around her neck has become more prominent. “Shut up,” she says, and that’s that. 

They settle into an awkward silence and continue to wait. 

**.x.x.x.**

“Mr Xavier is awake. He said he’d like to see Erik?” the doctor says, sometime later. They all scramble to sit upright, eyes blinking open. It’s been so long, Erik let himself drift off to sleep, exhausted, his body presumably trying to process the events of the day. His sleep hadn’t been pleasant, his dreams filled with bullets and an uncomfortable awareness of what he’s done to Charles, as well as Shaw’s dead face. 

Raven gives him a nudge when he fails to respond to the doctor. Clueless as to why Charles would want to see him first, Erik staggers to his feet. As more time passes, he’s beginning to feel more ridiculous in his Division X uniform. Swallowing hard, he gives the doctor a nod, and allows him to lead the way into Charles’ room.

It’s dark outside, but the curtains haven’t been shut yet. Charles is lying prone, head tilted to one side, facing towards the window. His own uniform is gone, likely cut away in the urgency of everything, and replaced with a white hospital gown. There’s thick bandaging beneath the gown, the padding around his middle a tell-tale sign. The room is quiet as Erik steps around the bed, to sit in the chair by Charles’ side. 

Charles raises his eyes to meet his and they’re so full of anguish, it almost breaks Erik all over again. 

“Why did you want to see me first?” Erik finds himself asking. “I shot you. You should send me away right now. Far away. You could make me go. No helmet now,” he says, lifting a hand to his head, to make his point even clearer. 

There’s no immediate response from Charles, but to Erik’s horror, his eyes start to swim with tears. 

An awful silence drags on.

“I can’t feel my legs,” Charles eventually murmurs. His voice cracks as he adds, “I need you.” 

“You don’t need me. This is my fault. I shot you, I did this, if it wasn’t for me you’d be okay. You need the opposite of me,” Erik argues, all in a rush. These are the thoughts that have been clattering around his head for hours. “You need better than me.”

Silence again, until, minutes later, Charles says, “I just need you. It was an accident, Erik. Please don’t… blame yourself. It was an accident.” He’s a little firmer the second time around. 

“I did this,” Erik repeats, quieter, and he drops his head to rest it on the mattress, near Charles’ own head. A sob rises in his throat and he has to fight it back down. Charles is alive, but Charles isn’t okay, and that’s on him. It’s only on him. “I’m so sorry, Charles. I’m sorry.” 

He isn’t expecting Charles to start carding his fingers through his hair, the way he did this morning, when they were lying in bed, mentally preparing themselves for a hell of a time. 

Like Erik is still worthy of his touch. 

Erik isn’t sure how long they remain like that. It could’ve been minutes or hours. Then Charles says, “It was an accident. And I know you’re sorry. I forgive you. I still love you, too.” He audibly swallows. “But Erik… our ideologies. We don’t want the same thing for mutantkind at all, my friend. You were going to kill all of those men. You want supremacy. I want peace.”

Does Charles really want to have this conversation now?

“Yes, Erik. I’m sorry. I can’t do things… your way. I won’t kill to fix the world. We need to… we’d be better off…” Each word is killing Erik. “I think it’s best that we part ways.” 

It feels like the world is spinning again. Erik really has broken everything. He’s lost Charles. 

“Oh, my love.” _You haven’t lost me. We’re just on different paths._

Charles’ fingers are still carding through his hair, like he hasn’t just ripped Erik’s heart out of his chest with a verbal hand. “They’ll try to kill us, Charles. They fear us, they hate us. They’ll round us up and slaughter us, one by one,” is all he can bring himself to say in response. 

“And then I’ll fight back. But I won’t attack them first. Look at what we’re capable of. Of course we seem terrifying to them _._ That doesn’t mean we need to satisfy that narrative. We can educate them and show them that they don’t need to fear our powers. We can teach them to embrace them instead, like we embrace our own abilities,” Charles says, and Erik can’t help but wonder at the fact he hasn’t broken Charles’ sense of optimism at all. “You haven’t broken me, Erik. I just can’t walk. I’ll be okay.” But even as he says that, his voice cracks again. “I need you, and I don’t want to let you go, Erik, but we don’t want the same thing at all.”

It hurts. It hurts so much, but Erik didn’t wait all this time, didn’t hear Charles forgive him, didn’t hear Charles say he loves him again, just to be told it’s best they part ways. Compromising isn’t in his nature at all, but he lifts his head and says before he can doubt himself, “We do want the same thing. We just have different methods.”

There’s a sigh from Charles and a warning note in his voice, despite him being gentle as he says, “Erik…” 

“I won’t attack them,” he blurts. “Unless I think there are mutants in danger. If the government starts hunting us like animals, I’m going to act immediately. I might even rip them apart. But I won’t go to war. Not yet. I’ll… I want to be by your side, and I want you by mine.”

Compromising on his ideologies doesn’t feel entirely right, but isn’t this what people are supposed to do for love? 

Charles is quiet for a good while. “You’d really stay with me? I… I don’t know what I’m going to do. I want to find more mutants. Possibly… train more mutants. Help them master their mutations. There were so many, when I used Cerebro…” Charles sounds a bit sleepy now, and his eyelids are drooping. 

“I know,” Erik says, swallowing hard and leaning in to press a tender kiss to Charles’ forehead. “There’s so many of us, Charles. We’ll help them. You and I, together. We’ll find them and we’ll help them. But first, you need to get better.”

“You’ll stay?” Charles asks again. 

Erik remembers how much it hurt to exist, when he thought he’d killed Charles. He knows, for a fact, he doesn’t want to live this life without him by his side. Even if compromises need to be made. Even if there’s a lot they’ll need to get through first. They’ll find a way to create a better world for mutants together and make their ideologies both work, somehow. It might be a pipedream, but Erik’s willing to try if Charles is. Maybe it will work, or maybe it won’t, but he plans to give it his all. 

“I’ll stay,” he tells Charles, and he means it. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! ♥
> 
> If you'd like to see when I post more stuff, follow me on [Tumblr!](https://ofbrothersandteacakes.tumblr.com/)


End file.
